Chapter 6: Deep-fried Dough Sticks and Soy Milk

Su Ruojin had anticipated this long ago, so a month ago, she had racked her brains to scrape together money for her mother’s childbirth. She finally got her wish, and her mother could now have a peaceful postpartum recovery.

The Su family’s "Third Day" celebration was held quite decently. By the afternoon, the guests had all departed.

Su Yanli, having settled a major worry, felt very relaxed. As soon as the guests left, he wrapped his wife tightly in two thick quilts and carried her back to the master bedroom, then moved his newborn son into the cradle beside the large bed.

Once everything was settled, he sat at the head of the bed, watching his wife while teasing his little son—the very picture of a family man who felt he had everything he needed with a wife and child by his side.

Su Ruojin, standing to the side helping to tidy up:...

Father, if you just sit there like that, what about dinner? Who is going to worry about that?

Su Ruojin stood still.

Watching her father.

Su Yanli would reach out to smooth the stray hair at his wife’s temples, tucking it behind her ear, then turn to look at his little son who couldn't even open his eyes yet, his face beaming with smiles. Who would even think about dinner? He was probably already full from happiness.

Su Ruojin could only pout, turn away from the trio, and hurry off to find Mother Dong.

Mother Dong was taking a moment to wash the Su family’s clothes, as well as the mattress pads the mistress had changed over the past two days. She looked worried. "The mistress’s lochia doesn't seem to be passing very smoothly. Er-niang, you must keep a close eye on her. If you notice anything wrong, have your father call a physician immediately."

Su Ruojin nodded. "Mother had a difficult labor and is completely exhausted, so her appetite is poor and she doesn't want to eat."

If she didn't eat, she couldn't regain her strength. If her strength didn't recover well, the lochia naturally wouldn't pass smoothly; it was all connected to her physical health.

Su Ruojin secretly made up her mind that she must find a way to improve her mother’s appetite.

She stayed busy until dark. After the Su family finished dinner, Mother Dong finally left. Worried, Su Ruojin had Uncle Shutong walk her home.

"Mother, don't worry. By the time the New Year passes at the latest, I will bring you back."

When Mother Dong heard this, she started wiping away tears again. "I know, I’m not in a hurry. Tell the Master not to worry either; focus on the mistress’s postpartum care first. If there is money, spend it on the mistress first."

The mistress and servant sighed over household matters for a long while before parting ways.

Su Ruojin stood under the corridor, looking out into the pitch-black night and listening to the whistling cold wind. She calculated the days ahead over and over in her mind. Of the seven taels of silver, over two had been spent. The remaining five had to be split in half to last until her father received his salary at the end of the month.

She finally had two and a half taels of liquid cash in her hands. She had already decided what to do with it!

Facing the night, her smile bloomed like a flower. Su Ruojin exclaimed, "Finally, I can make money!"

Su Ruojin turned and went inside. Her father had wiped his mouth after dinner and had long since slipped back to the bedroom to be with his wife and child. She had no choice but to settle her eldest brother, Anzhi, and her younger brother, Ganzhi, by washing their faces and feet and getting them to bed. She didn't blow out the lamp and leave their room until she had tucked them in and placed the hot water bottle properly.

After coming out, she didn't return to her own small room but went to the kitchen. She poured out a good amount of the flour and soybeans that had been bought for the "Third Day" banquet. She first soaked a small wooden basin of soybeans, then tidied up the cutting board... Her small figure was busy in the kitchen, enjoying herself immensely.

More than an hour later, Shutong returned.

Su Ruojin had already finished tidying up and was waiting for him. "Uncle Shutong, we need to get up early tomorrow morning. I have something I need you to do."

"What is it? Making money?" Shutong’s mind was now entirely focused on making money.

Su Ruojin grinned, her smile bright. "Something like that."

"Ah... ah..." Shutong was overjoyed. "Tell me quickly, how do we make it?"

"You'll know tomorrow morning!" Su Ruojin pointed to the flour on the board. "First, help me knead the dough."

"What are we eating tomorrow morning?"

"Tangbing." (In reality, modern boiled noodles.)

"But we don't need this much flour for that, do we?" He looked at the young mistress in confusion.

"It's about right." Su Ruojin wouldn't give him a straight answer. She instructed him on how to knead the dough, how much lye to add, how much sourdough starter to break in, and even added salt, sugar, and an egg.

Shutong was startled by the number of ingredients the young mistress was adding. "Is making tangbing this complicated?"

Su Ruojin pursed her lips and smiled without answering, directing him to place the kneaded dough in a straw basket to ferment. It was winter and the temperature was low, so the dough needed time to ferment; it wouldn't over-ferment and turn sour overnight.

"Is this enough?"

Ever since Mother Dong had been taken away, Shutong had been the one cooking for the Su family. It tasted terrible, but later, the little mistress couldn't stand it anymore and stood on a small stool to hold the ladle, and only then did the Su family’s food become edible.

No, it should be said it became very delicious. The young mistress had a talent for cooking; any dish she pointed at always turned out delicious. Shutong felt that even the food in the restaurants wasn't as good as what the young mistress made.

To wake up early the next day, Su Ruojin crawled into bed and fell asleep.

Shutong, however, was kept awake all night by the young mistress’s mysterious words. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning when he followed her into the kitchen that he saw her direct him to grind and boil the soybeans. That was fine, but then she poured the entire jar of oil they had just bought yesterday into the large iron pot.

He was so scared he almost screamed. Everyone else was still dreaming in the early morning, so he clamped his hand over his mouth, staring at the young mistress without blinking.

Su Ruojin reached out and patted the fermented dough. It was soft and airy. She poked it with her finger, and the air holes in the dough were just right. She quickly pulled Shutong to the counter. "Hurry, knead it again, push out the air, and then pinch it into small pieces this big..."

"What... for?"

"To fry youtiao, of course!"

Youtiao, originally called "Youzha Hui," was a traditional breakfast snack with a story about the traitor Qin Hui and the loyal patriot Yue Fei.

However, although the Great Yin was similar to the Song Dynasty, it was not the Song Dynasty after all. There was no Qin Hui who killed Yue Fei and his son on "unfounded" charges, nor was there the story of commoners throwing dough into a pot to fry "Youzha Hui" to vent their hatred.

Su Ruojin took the small pieces Shutong had pinched, flattened and stretched them until they were the length of chopsticks, then stacked two together, pressed them with a chopstick, and placed them into the hot oil. In the blink of an eye, the white strips of dough expanded and changed color in the hot oil.

Su Ruojin kept turning them with special long chopsticks. Within a few moments, the two pressed-together strips of dough turned into fluffy, golden, delicious youtiao.

"Sss..." Shutong sucked in his saliva. "Young... mistress... that looks delicious!" He stood from behind the stove to the side of the counter, his mouth watering uncontrollably as he watched.

"It doesn't just look delicious; it tastes delicious too."

Shutong chuckled. "Young mistress, how many are you going to fry?"

"A lot."

Shutong didn't understand. "Why fry so many? Are you giving them away?"

Su Ruojin rolled her eyes at him. "Oil and flour cost money; I wouldn't give them away."

"Then how long will it take to eat all these?" Seeing the youtiao being placed into the basket one by one, it was full in no time.

Su Ruojin silently calculated. There were 100 of them. Let's start with this many this morning, test the waters, see how it goes, and then decide how many to fry tomorrow.

The soy milk in the large pot was also ready. Su Ruojin had Shutong pour it into two jars, then turned to take out the paper cups made of oil paper.

"Uncle Shutong, the youtiao are three wen each, and the soy milk is three wen a cup. Hurry and carry them to Lizi Lane to sell them."